


Early Morning Heat

by xylodemon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MWPP Era, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-12
Updated: 2005-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which James and Remus share a sleepy morning, post-transformation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Morning Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://sethkyne_blue.livejournal.com/profile)[**sethkyne_blue**](http://sethkyne_blue.livejournal.com/), on the occasion of her birthday.

James woke cold and tired. Sunlight was streaming through the dirty windows, bright and uninvited, dancing as the wind rustled through the trees outside. The floor was hard and uneven, and when James rolled over a dull ache spread through the small of his back, a complaint against last night's impromptu sleeping arrangements.

He couldn't see Peter, but he knew he was close by, he could hear his familiar breathing, a soft whistle-rattle that wasn't quite a snore. Remus was a few feet away, silent and still, buried under a large pile of blankets.

"Remus," James said quietly. He moved, slowly, gritting his teeth as pain flared in his knees and elbows -- a reminder of how much the stag and the dog had chased and tumbled last night -- and shook Remus' shoulder gently.

The pile of blankets shifted and made a sleepy noise.

"Moony," James said, peeling the blankets back. Remus looked pale and worn, and there was a scrape across his right cheek, red and crusted with blood. James shook his shoulder again, a bit harder, and Remus mumbled, opened a bleary eye.

"C'mon, Moony," he implored. "You have to get up. Just for a little bit."

Remus rolled onto his back, yawned, and regarded James tiredly. "Class?" he asked.

"No class. It's Saturday."

"Sod off, then."

"No," James said firmly. "You need to get in the bed."

"I'm fine."

That was a lie; it had to be. The floor was cold and hard and James' body throbbed from sleeping on it, and his bones had not been broken and reformed twice in the last twelve hours.

Remus closed his eyes, as if the conversation was over, and rubbed irritably at his face. This agitated the cut, making it bleed sluggishly. James leaned over Remus' body and spit on the hem of his shirt.

"Get off," Remus said. "That's not clean."

"Says the man who just rubbed it with his dirty paws."

Remus growled, but James ignored it; it would have been more convincing if Remus was not in a right state. James dabbed at the cut lightly, the white material of his shirt blooming red under his fingers.

"Right. Up you get, then," James said. He leaned in, pulling on Remus' arm, then slid around behind him

"I'm fine," Remus insisted, trying to shrug him off. "I slept here all night."

"And you shouldn't have," James replied, tipping Remus into a sitting position. "You were a right arse last night, you know that? You scratched me up, scratched Padfoot up, and you howled like a banshee. You scented something, a rabbit I think, and you chased it nearly to Hogwarts before we caught you."

"I'm sorry," Remus muttered.

"Don't, Moony. It wasn't your fault, and you know that," James said. "But you _were_ an arse. All that, and then you wouldn't come inside. When we finally got you inside, you curled up right here, and I wasn't about to argue. I probably should have, but really, Moony, it was the first time you shut the fuck up all night."

James stood, bringing Remus with him. He moved slowly, carefully, because he knew Remus hurt a thousand times more than he did. He waited until Remus seemed steady on his feet before trying to walk, but after a few steps the blanket Remus brought with him slipped, falling to his waist, and he paused to fumble with it.

"What?" James asked.

"Naked," Remus mumbled.

"Yes, because you've something I don't have myself," James quipped. "Let's get you to the bed, and I'll see if I can find your pants."

He found Remus' pants near the bed, puddled on the floor with Remus' shirt, his own coat, and Peter's socks and shoes. He fished them out, handed them to Remus, and busied himself with finding another blanket while Remus pulled them on.

"Where's Sirius?" Remus asked.

"Detention."

"It's Saturday."

"Yes, well, Sirius is a right delinquent, isn't he?"

Remus gave a weak snort. "And you're not, I suppose?"

"I'm not," James insisted, pulling a dusty brown blanket out of a large wardrobe with a squeaky hinge. "I don't get caught."

"Peter's still asleep?"

"He is," James replied. "I reckon he will be for some time. Hogsmeade to Hogwarts at a dead run is a tough trip on such short legs."

Remus was in the bed now, with the blanket pulled up to his chin. It was a deep, almost Slytherin green, and it made Remus seem ghostly pale, made the cut on his cheek stand out sharply. Remus shivered, his teeth chattering faintly, and James tossed the other blanket at him.

"Cold?" James asked. "You want your shirt?"

Remus grumbled and shook his head. James was tempted to get it anyway; he knew Remus just couldn't be arsed to sit up and put it on. He watched Remus for a moment, watched him close is eyes and roll over with a grunt, and he decided to leave it alone.

With a sigh, he tossed back the blankets and crawled into the bed.

"What are you doing?" Remus' voice was hoarse, and he sounded like he was talking into the pillow.

"Sleeping," James replied. "It's half six, if it's anything."

"You'll miss breakfast,"

"Peter has pumpkin pasties in his bag."

"Who says I'm giving them to you?"

"You up then, Pete?" James turned his head, watching as Peter sat up and rubbed his eyes.

Peter blinked owlishly, then frowned. "I suppose I am now, since you two won't shut the fuck up."

"Right. See who doesn't get to sit between my antlers on the trip back the next time Moony runs out of his range."

"Make sure not to wake him up and put him into bed while you're at it," Peter returned. "Just leave him on the floor, without a blanket."

"Will do," James said, closing his eyes. If Peter wanted to be an arsehole this early in the morning, he could do it without James.

"There's room, Peter," Remus offered.

"No, thank you," Peter said. "I'm going back to the dormitory, where I've my own bed and my own blankets. And a heater."

"Peter?" James asked suddenly, sitting up halfway.

"What?"

"Leave the pasties."

Peter muttered something that was more than likely rude, but James ignored it. Hexing Peter would involve finding his wand, and at the moment, be couldn't be arsed. He settled back in, closed his eyes, and was nearly asleep by the time Peter slipped out the door.

"You shouldn't be so mean to him," Remus commented.

James opened an eye to glare at Remus, but it was to no avail. All he could see was Remus' shoulder peeking out of the blankets.

"He was being an arsehole."

"He was tired."

"You're tired, and you're not being an arsehole," James said simply. "And you've more reason to complain that he does."

"It's hard for him," Remus said. "He's not like you and Sirius. He's--" he trailed off suddenly, shivering.

"You still cold?"

Remus shook his head, but he shivered again, giving himself away. James reached out and grabbed the blanket, yanking it up over Remus' shoulder, his fingers brushing Remus' skin.

"How are you cold?" James asked.

It didn't make any sense; Remus' skin was warm under his fingers, fevered. In complete contrast with his paleness, Remus felt like he'd been laying out in the sun all day.

"Don't know. Just am."

Curious, James let his fingers slide up the curve of Remus' shoulder to his neck. He was even warmer there, hot where his hair curled sweaty and damp at his nape.

"What are you doing, James?" Remus' voice was different now, thinner.

"Warming my hands," James replied, tucking himself close against Remus' back. He slipped his hands down, wrapping his arms around Remus' body. It was even warmer than his shoulders and neck, heated from being under the blankets. "Christ, you're better than those water-bottles the house-elves put in the beds. We could use you to heat the Tower."

Remus made a small, incoherent noise, which James ignored, because he was warm, and in bed, and close to falling asleep again. But then, just as he began to drift off, Remus started moving, shifting around in his arms in a way that made the bed grumble and groan.

"Go to sleep, Remus."

"How am I supposed to sleep with you mauling me?"

"Maul?" James sputtered indignantly. "Maul? I'll give you maul."

"Will you, now," Remus said quietly.

James started at that, unsure of how to reply. A silence stretched between them, and James wondered what Remus had meant by that, wondered if Remus had meant for it to sound the way it did, wondered why the idea made him flush with a new kind of heat.

"Do you want me to?" he asked, though he wasn't sure why.

"Do you want to?" Remus asked.

James hesitated, several different replies dying on his lips, because he wasn't really sure what he wanted. All he knew was that he was warm, and that Remus felt good under his hands, pressed against his chest.

"Remus," he said, because he knew he had to say something.

"It's all right, Prongs," Remus said softly. "I was just taking the piss."

James wasn't sure he believed that, wasn't sure he wanted to believe that.

"Were you."

"I'm too tired for that, anyway," Remus said lightly.

"You shouldn't have offered, then," James replied. He leaned away, enough to tip Remus onto his back, and pushed him into the pillows.

"I didn't... James... I'm tired," Remus stammered. "I can't--"

"You offered, and I want to," James said, crawling on top of him. "And I'm not one to wait."

"You're waiting for Evans."

"Remus," James said sharply. "I don't want to talk about Evans right now."

He started to argue, but James moved closer, letting his cock press into Remus hip. Remus gasped, his mouth dropping open, and James took the opportunity, dipping his head down and slipping his tongue inside.

Remus' mouth was stale with sleep, but it was hot and wet, and he started kissing James back immediately. It was nothing like kissing girls, with small mouths and shy, tentative tongues -- it was different, hungry and deep and rough, it was Remus' teeth nipping at his lip and Remus growling into his mouth.

Remus' cock was hard, digging into James' hip, and it felt good, felt wonderful, but then Remus moved, Remus twisted and arched of the bed and it felt brilliant, because Remus' cock was rubbing against his own.

James pressed down, rocking, against him, each thrust causing explosions of heat under his skin. But he wanted more, needed more; he braced himself over Remus with one arm and shoved the other between them, yanking down his pants, Remus pants, tugging until there was skin against skin, until their cocks slid together, sweat-slick and perfect.

His hand wandered, still curious, wondering what Remus felt like everywhere, trailing up Remus' leg and over his thigh to wrap around his cock. Remus moaned, arching up into his fist, adding a hand to the tangle between their bodies to touch James in return.

James couldn't think, couldn't breathe, because there was a hand on his cock that was not his own, because it was Remus', which was a strange thought, and even stranger was Remus' face, his muscles tense, his eyes sliding closed.

_I'm touching Moony's cock. I'm going to make Moony come._

And he did, with a moan that is half a growl, his teeth grazing James' neck and his hips snapping up to meet James' hand. Remus kissed him, his tongue plunging into James' mouth as his cock pulsed in James' hand, and Remus tightened his fingers, and James followed, James couldn't do anything but follow, his head dropping onto Remus' shoulder as he spurted wet and thick over Remus' fingers.

James was slow to move, slow to look at Remus' face, because he didn't want to find that Remus was embarrassed or ashamed. When he finally did look, he found Remus was neither of these things, but Remus was watching him, his eyes wide and curious.

"Um," Remus said.

"Sleep," James declared quickly, because he knew conversations that start with 'um' were the kinds of conversations he hated to have.

"Sleep?"

"Yes, sleep."

James didn't want to talk about it, but if Remus was going to make him, he'd rather do it later, after he'd slept, and had some time to think. He slid off Remus, settling in next to him and burrowing under the blankets, but he found he didn't want to move too far away, didn't want to lose Remus' warmth.

Suddenly, he sat up, leaned over the side of the bed, and groped around for his wand.

"What now, James?"

" _Accio pumpkin pasties_."


End file.
